Read Online Never Missing, Never Found by Amanda Panitch - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Panitch
Ads: Link
Enthusiasm is not cool. People like Melody don’t do enthusiasm. “Morning,” I say. “I’m off to Wonderkidz.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m the one who wrote the schedule on the whiteboard.”
“With great power comes great responsibility. I hope you’re using it wisely.”
“I just hope you don’t hate me at the end of your shift. Remember, it’s not my fault. Blame Cynthia.”
“That bodes well,” I say. “Did you stick me with Lizzy again?”
His jaw drops in mock shock. “Like I would ever do that to you,” he says. “What do you think of me? In all honesty, though,” he continues, “you’ll probably be begging to wash Lizzy’s feet before an hour’s gone.”
I ask him to elaborate once we continue on, even threaten him with a plush sword hanging from one of the stands we pass, but he refuses. I want to tell him that whatever’s in store at Wonderkidz, I’ve been through worse. That whatever trauma he’s joking about inflicting upon me is an actual joke, because nothing could ever faze me again.
Within five minutes of entering the store, I want to claw my ears off and stuff the bloody holes full of cotton.
“Is that going to play all day?” I ask him.
The store itself isn’t bad. It’s small and open to the elements, with space for only two registers, and it’s out of the way at the very edge of the south side, so people actually have to mean to come here. The walls and shelves are stacked with superhero-themed kids’ stuff: plush replicas of Skywoman’s cloud lasso, plush replicas of the Wondermobile, plush replicas of the eponymous Blade’s blade…basically, plush replicas of everything you could possibly make a plush replica of.
It’s the sound track that’s the problem. There are four speakers, one in each corner of the store, aimed directly at the registers and blasting a skin-crawling, spine-tingling, teeth-gritting song from the Wonderman and Skywoman movies, sung—and screeched, definitely screeched—by a group of what has to be hellspawn, because those noises can’t be coming from the throats of sweet, innocent children.
“All day,” Connor confirms. “And just wait until it repeats. It repeats about every ten minutes.”
“How could you do this to me?” I groan. “I thought I was your favorite person.”
“You are,” he says. “It’s just that it was between you and getting fired, and, well…I’m not losing my job. I had to suffer through Wonderkidz too.”
He logs me into the register and sets up my cashbox. I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, but I do,” Connor says. He hoists himself up onto the counter, breaking the Five Banners rule that says no sitting on counters, but
whoa
a flash of white freckled belly and my cheeks are so hot I’m afraid the plush lightning bolts I’m leaning against might actually crackle and burst into flame. “Or I’ll get fired. But Lizzy is coming in at lunch. I could conceivably beg Cynthia to switch her out for you come lunchtime.”
“I will kill someone if I have to,” I say, and I’m only half-joking.
“Let’s not go that far,” he says, which is good, because I don’t ever want to have to go that far again. He folds his arms across his chest. “Answer three questions right and I’ll let you switch.”
I uncross my arms and prop myself against the wall behind me, leaning toward him. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were to fall against his legs. I wonder what baling hay does to a person’s legs. “Fire away.”
“First question.” His voice deepens and snaps like a weatherman’s. “What is this year’s official Five Banners corporate motto?”
Easy for anyone who’s read the employee handbook. Which I have. “Safe! Friendly! Clean!”
“Correct. And, apparently, if you’re safe, friendly, and hygienic, you can go ahead and steal as much money as you want.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Kidding, obviously.”
I follow his
“I know,” he says. “I’m the one who wrote the schedule on the whiteboard.”
“With great power comes great responsibility. I hope you’re using it wisely.”
“I just hope you don’t hate me at the end of your shift. Remember, it’s not my fault. Blame Cynthia.”
“That bodes well,” I say. “Did you stick me with Lizzy again?”
His jaw drops in mock shock. “Like I would ever do that to you,” he says. “What do you think of me? In all honesty, though,” he continues, “you’ll probably be begging to wash Lizzy’s feet before an hour’s gone.”
I ask him to elaborate once we continue on, even threaten him with a plush sword hanging from one of the stands we pass, but he refuses. I want to tell him that whatever’s in store at Wonderkidz, I’ve been through worse. That whatever trauma he’s joking about inflicting upon me is an actual joke, because nothing could ever faze me again.
Within five minutes of entering the store, I want to claw my ears off and stuff the bloody holes full of cotton.
“Is that going to play all day?” I ask him.
The store itself isn’t bad. It’s small and open to the elements, with space for only two registers, and it’s out of the way at the very edge of the south side, so people actually have to mean to come here. The walls and shelves are stacked with superhero-themed kids’ stuff: plush replicas of Skywoman’s cloud lasso, plush replicas of the Wondermobile, plush replicas of the eponymous Blade’s blade…basically, plush replicas of everything you could possibly make a plush replica of.
It’s the sound track that’s the problem. There are four speakers, one in each corner of the store, aimed directly at the registers and blasting a skin-crawling, spine-tingling, teeth-gritting song from the Wonderman and Skywoman movies, sung—and screeched, definitely screeched—by a group of what has to be hellspawn, because those noises can’t be coming from the throats of sweet, innocent children.
“All day,” Connor confirms. “And just wait until it repeats. It repeats about every ten minutes.”
“How could you do this to me?” I groan. “I thought I was your favorite person.”
“You are,” he says. “It’s just that it was between you and getting fired, and, well…I’m not losing my job. I had to suffer through Wonderkidz too.”
He logs me into the register and sets up my cashbox. I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, but I do,” Connor says. He hoists himself up onto the counter, breaking the Five Banners rule that says no sitting on counters, but
whoa
a flash of white freckled belly and my cheeks are so hot I’m afraid the plush lightning bolts I’m leaning against might actually crackle and burst into flame. “Or I’ll get fired. But Lizzy is coming in at lunch. I could conceivably beg Cynthia to switch her out for you come lunchtime.”
“I will kill someone if I have to,” I say, and I’m only half-joking.
“Let’s not go that far,” he says, which is good, because I don’t ever want to have to go that far again. He folds his arms across his chest. “Answer three questions right and I’ll let you switch.”
I uncross my arms and prop myself against the wall behind me, leaning toward him. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were to fall against his legs. I wonder what baling hay does to a person’s legs. “Fire away.”
“First question.” His voice deepens and snaps like a weatherman’s. “What is this year’s official Five Banners corporate motto?”
Easy for anyone who’s read the employee handbook. Which I have. “Safe! Friendly! Clean!”
“Correct. And, apparently, if you’re safe, friendly, and hygienic, you can go ahead and steal as much money as you want.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Kidding, obviously.”
I follow his
Similar Books
